


Charming

by MathildaKitt



Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:42:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathildaKitt/pseuds/MathildaKitt
Summary: Klink finds a trinket.
Relationships: Robert Hogan/Wilhelm Klink
Comments: 15
Kudos: 30





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a vintage item I own and wear often. :) This work could be classified as AU because Klink already knows of Hogan’s antics.

Wilhelm Klink had driven himself into town, which was his custom at these monthly get-togethers. The handful of other camp Kommandants always booked rooms for these evenings and would later tell tales of morale-boosting _companionship_ they had found. This evening was no different.

Klink often found himself teased for not following suit, but then he would hint at his zero-escape record and that would end the jests. Tonight, however, the others noticed his distraction as he glanced at his watch, once too often.

“In a hurry, are we?” Colonel Brauner had poked his side, as he winked in his direction. “No need for our company?”

“If I had my own little Mäuschen back at camp, I wouldn’t want to cuddle close to you, either!” Kommandant Ziegler raised his stein in Klink’s direction. “I deliver all of my memos in person, just to get a peek at her!” This set the men off in a round of laughter and a few whistles.

Klink took the ribbing in stride and made a quick mental note to have Fraulein Hilda run errands in town whenever Ziegler was due to visit. He smiled and laughed along with them, but had a completely different image in his mind when he thought of his “little mouse”. Tall and slim, dark hair, eyes that shone and a smile full of mischief.

“Keeps you on your toes, those young things, eh? I bet you get a lot of surprises from that one.” Colonel Gessel had to be close to 90 years old - he’d been past Klink’s own age during the Great War. He was a friend and advisor to the Bürgermeister and a village mascot of times gone by, these days. His laugh turned into a wheezy cough, which had to be settled with a long sip of lager and a good pat on the back from his Aide.

“So many surprises, I can’t begin to name them,” Klink replied, smiling back at the old man. _‘Let’s start with the trap-door in my quarters and go from there, shall we’,_ Klink thought, ruefully. He bided his time with his own beer, steadily working on his second mug and picking at the sausage and cheese plate he had ordered. As he finished his drink, he signaled for the waitress and gave her his portion of the tab for the table. Adding a bit extra toward the drinks and meals for the other men was a small price to pay for getting back to camp at a fairly reasonable hour.

“Gentlemen,” Klink said, rising and nodding to the table, “I fear I must take my leave. Tomorrow is an early day.”

“Or tonight’s a late night!” Ziegler’s joke caused the table to howl with laughter.

“As you say,” Klink smiled. He ducked his head a bit and tried to will his cheeks back to their normal color. “Good night and thank you. See you all next month.” He bowed slightly toward the group and headed to the door, shrugging into his overcoat and slipping his cap on.

An unexpected glint of metal caught his eye as he stepped out of the doorway of the Hofbrau and onto the darkened sidewalk. A spare pfennig is always useful, he thought, as he bent to pick it up. Once in his hand, though, Klink saw that it wasn’t a coin at all. It was a small charm, like the frauleins had taken to wearing on silver bracelets. It sat in his palm, bright against the dark leather of his dress gloves. He noted the small v-shaped pattern of laurel leaves engraved on one side. He turned the tiny heart over to find the opposite side blank; not defaced by either the eagle nor a hakenkreuz. It must be an older style, he presumed. No initials either, so it would be quite impossible to reunite it with the original owner.

Klink scanned the street, but saw no one nearby. He waited a few moments and watched for anyone exiting the nearby buildings. When no one did, he pocketed the trinket and continued to his staff car. On the drive back to camp, he wondered how well the polishing powder in his medal kit would work on the little charm and hoped his Mäuschen would like it.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogan gets a trinket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is creeping into PG-13 territory. Thou hast been warned. ;) Also, italics = flashback.

The officer silently scanned the room, looking for his most likely candidate. He had to ask someone quiet and unassuming; the kind of guy that faded into the background and didn’t draw attention. His eyes landed on just the fellow he needed and he waited for his chance to catch him alone.

“Hey, Olson,” Robert Hogan sidled up to his outside man. “You still have that spare housewife the Red Cross gave out?” Last year, their Christmas boxes included a tiny extra comfort item they didn’t usually find in their normal shipments. Some got a small bar of soap, some extra candy or cigarettes, and some a small sewing kit.

“Sure, Sir,” Olson replied. “But, if you’ve got something to mend, I can do it for you …. or Newkirk can. He’s the tailor, after all.” He knew the Colonel didn’t sew for himself, at all. He tried sometimes, but it always ended up with curses, pricked fingers and tiny blood dots scattered across whatever he was working on. It was just easier to do it for him.

Hogan thought for a split-second before leaning a tiny bit closer to the younger man. “This is kind of a delicate matter, Olson. Personal, ya know? I’d like to keep it just between us, if you don’t mind.”

Olson raised his eyebrows and gave Hogan a tiny smile, immediately picturing their new French lady-contact. Those Paris girls could probably do a number on your drawers, when they got rambunctious.

“Gotcha. I’ll be the last one to leave when we’re heading out for chow and drop it on your desk.” 

“Thanks, Olson. You're a good man.”

A few hours later, Hogan walked into his office to see a small, drab-green fabric roll on the far corner of his desk, tucked almost behind his pencil cup. Olson was slick - the kit was nearly impossible to see from the doorway. He shrugged out of his leather jacket and tossed it on the lower bunk, then picked up the sewing kit. Flipping it open, he found 2 needles already threaded with a good lengths of thread and sturdy knots in place at the ends. Hogan rolled his eyes at that. He knows how to thread a needle, for Pete’s sake. Did Olson think he was a totally dunce? He leaned over to make sure the small window shutter was closed and brought his chair close to his tiny desk lamp. Once that was done, he fished the tiny silver heart from its hiding spot in the farthest corner of his pillowcase. He smiled as he turned it over in the light, thinking back on the evening he got it.

_“A sweetheart charm? I didn’t take you for a romantic!” Robert teased, as he held the charm to the light and examined the pretty bands of laurel that edged the front. Most of these charms had a forget-me-not, a violet or a rose engraved on them, marking them as something that only a lady could own without suspicion. This one was different and he could honestly say he’d never seen one with a more “manly” design on it._

_“If you don’t want it, hand it over. It was just a silly idea anyway …” Will looked flustered and reached across the chessboard for the trinket._

_“Na-unh! No take-backs! It’s mine now.” Robert closed his fist around the heart and pulled it tight to his chest. “Unless there’s some other boy in town you want to give it to.” He smirked across the table and glanced up at his counterpart as he watched his reaction._

_Will blushed the tiniest bit and muttered, “You scamp; you know there’s no one else.”_

_“Good,” Robert said, sliding his own chair back and tugging the small card table along with him. “Hey, you think these chairs can hold somebody Schultzie’s size?”_

_Will peered down at the sturdy legs of the vintage wooden side chairs and replied, “I’m sure they would. General Burkhalter has been here dozens of times and used them without an issue, so …” He trailed off as he suddenly realized what Robert was doing. He braced himself back against the cushioned chair as Robert straddled his thighs and settled slowly onto his lap._

_“What do you think you’re doing?” Will asked, trying to keep the humor out of his question._

_“Thanking you for my present,” Robert replies, pressing a light kiss to each cheek before dropping one softly onto his lips._

_Will turned to glance at the mantle clock. Damn. Almost 9:45._

_“And you start this, fifteen minutes before lights out?”_

_“Not my fault you gave me a nice present, this late in the evening.”_

_“If I’d known it would get this reaction, I would have given it to you when you showed up at seven. Leave it with me for now and we’ll do better, tomorrow night.”_

_Robert chuckled as he dipped his head for one more long kiss before his strudel-king chaperone came to get him._

Hogan made one final knot and cut the stout thread. He surveyed his stitching and decided it was good enough for government work. He had used up nearly all the thread in one of the needles, firmly attaching the heart to the deepest corner of his pocket lining. He usually kept his hands in his pockets anyway, so he wouldn’t look any different than normal. He slipped his jacket on and tested the feel. He reached into his right hand pocket and his fingertips found the heart, sewed fast to the nylon lining fabric. He gave it a gentle tug and pulled the pocket inside-out so he could look at the charm.

As he did, an image flashed through Hogan’s mind: one of those old silent films, where the bum pulled out his pockets to show he had nothing left in the world. He smiled, realizing it was just the opposite for him: his turned-out pocket let him see that he had everything.


End file.
